


Things Unsaid

by readwriterepeat



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readwriterepeat/pseuds/readwriterepeat
Summary: 5 things that Brooke and Vanjie don't say (and something that they do).





	Things Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before the reunion, and obviously, we know some things now that we didn’t know before, but I haven’t gone back and edited anything to take that into account. There isn’t a specific timeline though, so this could still be canon compliant depending on when it took place.

1:

The workroom is strangely calm. Conversation lulls as the queens wait to walk the runway. A few queens are still by the mirrors, rushing to put the finishing touches on their costumes or makeup, but most are scattered around the room appreciating a few minutes of relaxation before they need to walk the runway and then stand for God knows how long listening to critiques. Brooke is by herself, savoring the rare quiet. She had finished her face pretty early and walked away from her workstation to avoid the temptation of making any changes that might end up ruining her look.

Now, she is zoning out, letting the time pass, but as soon as a certain figure starts moving in the corner of her eye she snaps back to attention. Vanessa walks toward where Brooke stands leaning against one of the worktables. They’re a few episodes into the competition, so Brooke has seen Vanessa in drag and should be used to it, but somehow the sight takes Brooke’s breath away a little more every time.

She pushes herself off of the table she’s been resting against— Vanessa’s approach feels too significant to not be fully standing for— and then Brooke realizes that’s silly and casually settles back down.

Vanessa takes her place across from Brooke, propping herself against the next table over so they’re facing each other, mirror images. Not that anyone can mirror Vanessa, Brooke thinks.

She feels like she should say something, but the silence feels too significant to break with just a casual greeting. So Brooke stays quiet, smiles gently. Watches as Vanessa nods in return and reaches up to adjust pieces of her hair.

Does everyone move that smoothly? Brooke wonders as Vanessa’s fingers navigate aptly through her wig. Does everyone look so comfortable with themselves just leaning against a table?

Brooke had communicated briefly and rarely with Vanessa before the show, but in the handful of days that they’ve been in this competition, Brooke feels like she’s already grown very close to the other queen.

They’ve kissed. Softly, quickly. Brooke doesn’t know what that means, exactly. Doesn’t know if she’s reading into it. Or if maybe she’s not reading into it enough. All she knows is that she would kill to do it again.

The fact that neither of them has spoken makes Brooke feels like she’s in a dream. Like she’s conjuring the beauty in front of her and none of it is real.

But Vanessa finishes shifting one last curl of her wig, and finally breaks the silence. “This hair fixed yet?”

The casual words travel across the short distance between them, and no trance is broken. The magical feeling is still in the air. Is Brooke the only one who feels it?

“Yeah, mostly,” Brooke says. She closes the few feet between them and reaches out to tuck in one lock of hair that’s still sticking out just a little too far on the side of Vanessa’s head. She’s not even touching Vanessa, not really, just her wig, but Brooke feels a flutter in her chest at the contact.

It’s over in a second, and Brooke steps back to where she was. “Okay, do I look good now?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke takes in the delicate, but expressive features of Vanessa’s face. The contours of her collar bones dusted in gold glitter. The gentle slope of her shoulders and the warm glow of her skin.

“Yeah, you look good,” Brooke says.

What she doesn’t say is that Vanessa is the most beautiful thing Brooke has seen in her life. More beautiful every time she sees her. She doesn’t say that there’s no point in asking Brooke because in her eyes Vanessa will never be anything less than the most perfect thing she’s ever seen.

 

——

2:

It’s later in the competition now; they’re getting close to the end and Jose can’t believe it’s almost over. There are fewer queens left, so there’s room for everyone to spread out a little bit more on the van ride back to the hotel, but Jose is pressed up against Brock’s side anyway. Obviously.

They’ve all de-dragged for the day, so at least his face is clean, but Jose can’t wait to get back to the hotel and scrub the sweat from his hair.

Brock is resting against the window, and Jose is leaning against him with his head tucked onto Brock’s shoulder. They’re definitely something now, though they haven’t put the exact words to what.

Jose feels Brock shift his head so it’s not against the window anymore, and his cheek nestles into Jose’s hair instead. It reminds him of a cat. Brock has mentioned that he has cats— is that where he learned all his cuddling?

“You know how I’ve never had a boyfriend before?” Brock asks. Jose does know. They’ve talked about it. “Well, I don’t know what I was thinking waiting so long. This is nice.” Brock’s voice is low, and he sounds tired but happy.

“Stop tryna act like you never even cuddled nobody before,” Jose mutters back.

Brock wraps his arms around Jose and holds him to his chest. It’s not the most comfortable be like this, still sitting beside Brock with only his torso bent slightly to the side, but Jose loves it. Loves the soft rub of cotton against the skin of his face, the steady thud of Brock’s heart, the rhythm of his breath. He takes a deep breath and feels comfort wash over him at the scent of Brock, masked only slightly by the scent of his laundry detergent. It’s amazing how quickly a smell can become so familiar. So welcoming.

“Yeah, but it’s different now,” Brock mumbles into his hair. “When it’s with… when I know it’s not temporary.”

Jose’s heart swells at the words. Not temporary, not temporary, not temporary. Jose didn’t think they were, but it’s still nice to hear Brock say it. It’s verbal confirmation that this warm chest, and these arms that feel so safe, will be here to hold him again in the future.

“It’s nice to know you’ll be here again tomorrow,” Brock says, echoing Jose’s thoughts. “That’s new for me.” He presses a kiss to the crown of Jose’s head.

“Well everyone else must be crazy to not come back for seconds on these cuddles.” Jose’s delivery is teasing, but he’s glad to be the one that Brock decided was worth more than a fling. “I’m not about to start turnin’ them down any time soon,” he says.

What Jose doesn’t say is that, even though he has dated before, Brock makes everything feel so different that it almost feels like a first for Jose, too.

——

3:

The season is over, and they’re busy. And not only are their schedules keeping Brock and Jose from seeing each other, but their NDAs require them to keep their relationship a mystery. Which means not being seen together in public too often.

So they FaceTime. A lot.

Brooke has just finished a gig in Boston. Vanjie is working somewhere in Texas tonight, which means she probably isn’t done yet. Brooke tries to remember how much earlier it is there. Two hours?

As soon as she’s done packing up and walking out of the club she tries calling Vanjie anyway on the off chance that her gig ended early. She doesn’t answer. Which makes sense— Vanjie is probably onstage right now turning it for a crowd. Brooke tries not to be too jealous of the people that are getting to see her in person tonight.

Brooke is exhausted by the time she reaches her hotel room for the night, but when she flops onto the bed she leaves the lights on and flips to a random channel on the TV, more than willing to stay up until Vanessa calls her back.

Her phone rings about an hour later and she answers immediately, muting the TV while she waits for the FaceTime to connect.

“Hey Toes, what’s good.” Vanjie’s loud voice crackles through the phone. The screen is still blurry with lag as it tries to keep up with the fast movements of Vanessa’s phone.

“Nothin’, just spending the night in Boston. I think I’m heading to Tampa tomorrow but I’ll at least get to sleep in. How’s Texas?”

The screen finally comes into focus and Brooke can see Vanjie grinning on the other end, clearly just offstage in the dressing room at the bar. “That’s good. Bitch it’s hot as hell down here!” Some other queens shuffle around behind her and they’re all still buzzing from the excitement of being on stage. They say something that pulls Vanessa into the conversation. Brooke smiles and watches from her hotel bed many states away as Vanjie chats with the local queens.

Vanessa props her phone up against the mirror while she takes her makeup off and Brooke stays on the call, sometimes talking, but mostly not, as Vanessa de-drags and kikis with the other girls. At some point, Brooke gets up to turn the lights and the TV off so the glow of the phone is the only thing faintly lighting up her facing.

“Bitch, where’d you go?” Vanessa’s asks when she glances back down at her phone.

“Turned the lights off. Don’t need them if I’m only looking at you anyway.” Brooke curls deeper into the covers and yawns.

“Well, that’s not fair because now I can’t see you.”

“Use your imagination.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna imagine you ugly.”

Brooke laughs. “Fine.”

“Imma imagine you in Soju’s dress.”

Brooke gasps in mock astonishment. “Who knew you were so evil Vanessa Vanjie? The true villain of season eleven.”

“Don’t chu know it.” Vanjie’s eyes are bright as she grins at the phone. “Oh, shit I think my Uber’s here. I’m gonna let you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, want to call me in the morning before my flight?”

“Yeah, maybe if I’m awake by then,” Vanessa says, grabbing her things.

“Or I can call when I land,” Brooke offers.

“I think I might be on a plane by the time you get there. I can try you when I get to San Diego though?”

“That might work. I should have a bit of time before my gig.” Brooke tries to hide her disappointment that they probably won’t talk again until late in the day tomorrow.

“Well, I’ll talk to you soon then,” Vanjie says, and Brooke’s screen gets dimmer as Vanessa steps out from the lights of the club onto a dark street. “Sleep good. Miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Brooke says. “Can’t wait to talk to you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that she’ll be thinking of Vanessa every second between now and then. That she’ll be scrolling through pictures of her on Instagram as a poor substitute for actually talking to her, which itself is a poor substitute for actually being together.

“Bye!” Vanessa yells and blows a kiss into the phone as she climbs into her Uber and hangs up.

She doesn’t tell Vanjie that when they’re apart Brooke sometimes misses her so desperately that it’s all she can do.

——

4:

They’re finally together. It’s in a city that neither of them knows very well, and it’s only for a little while, but they’re together.

Brock had a gig two nights ago and stayed some extra time. Jose has a gig tonight and flew in a little early.

They’re both extremely busy now that the season is airing, and should probably think harder before giving up days of time that could be spent working, but as soon as Brock had noticed that this would fit with both of their schedules, and mentioned the idea to Jose, there wasn’t a question. It was happening.

Jose had gotten in late last night, and they had been holed up in the hotel since then— ordering room service, watching movies, or just laying together like they are now.

It’s late in the afternoon. Less than twenty-four hours since Jose got here and already almost time for Brock to head to the airport. But Jose is trying not to think about that.

Brock is lying on his back, propped slightly up on pillows. Jose is flopped over him, half his chest covering Brock’s own. Neither had bothered getting dressed today other than throwing on underwear when room service brought in their breakfast. They’re both scrolling through their phones now, occasionally laughing and showing each other particularly funny posts they find.

But it’s hard to stay light-hearted when Jose knows time is almost up. He drops his phone into the covers and curls himself tighter against Brock’s side.

Brock feels him move, and sets his phone aside as well, sliding down the bed until he’s fully lying down. He turns so he’s facing Jose, and Jose winds his arms around Brock’s waist. One of Brock’s hands comes to rest on Jose’s hip, and the other arm snakes under his neck. Their legs twine together as well. They’re as close as they can possibly be, in preparation for how far apart they’ll be again soon.

Jose presses his lips to Brock’s chest— the only part of his body in kissing distance. “Don’t leave,” he murmurs. As if it’s an option.

“I would stay like this forever if it was my choice,” Brock’s fingers trail softly up and down Jose’s back. “Once the season’s over we can start booking more places together. Only have to get through a little while longer.”

It’s true. They just have to stay separated through the season. But Brock doesn’t sound very comforted by those words, and it’s not good enough for Jose either. He wants to be together now. Knowing they’ll see each other more eventually won’t make the next handful of weeks any less lonely. It won’t make saying goodbye tonight any easier.

They stay like that for a long time. So long that Jose knows he could fall asleep if he wanted, but he makes himself stay up because he doesn’t want to miss any of these last minutes together. He can’t see a clock— can’t see anything but Brock’s torso— but the light in the room fades into a soft pink as the sun begins to set and Jose thinks it must be almost time for Brock to leave.

He knows it’s coming, but his heart still breaks when Brock squeezes him tighter for a couple of seconds before whispering an apology and pulling away.

Jose watches as Brock packs up the last of his things. “Let me borrow a shirt,” he says from the bed.

Brock laughs. “I just got back the one you borrowed last time,” he teases but tosses Jose the T-shirt that he had worn yesterday when they met up.

The last shirt Jose had borrowed had long since lost Brock’s scent, but this one would hopefully smell like him for at least a couple days. “Thanks.”

“Maybe you should start packing more boy clothes instead of using every last nook and cranny in your bags packing drag. If you’re always needing clothes from other people,” Brock jokes.

“I don’t want clothes from other people, I want clothes from you.” Jose snatches the shirt up off the bed. “It reminds me of you.”

“I know, sweetie,” Brock says. He pauses packing to walk over and plant a kiss against the top of Jose’s head and then leans down to press a deep kiss to his mouth as well.

Ten minutes later Jose is standing at the door saying his goodbyes. He doesn’t have time to see Brock off to the airport, he needs to start getting ready for his show soon.

They kiss goodbye, and then do it again because they need one more.

And then again. And again.

As Brock finally walks away Jose calls after him to have a safe flight, and thanks him again for leaving the shirt.

Once Brock is out of sight Jose shuts the door and falls back into the bed, immediately pressing the shirt to his face and taking a deep breath, and then balling it against his chest.

What he didn’t say to Brock was that he’ll sleep with the shirt every night until the scent fades, and even after that. Even once the smell of Brock is long gone he’ll hold it close and hope so hard to catch a hint of his boyfriend that he’ll sometimes convince himself it’s still there.

——

5.

Brock is home. Well, Brock is in Nashville.

He’s been so excited to get a break in his schedule and go back to his apartment to relax, but somehow it doesn’t feel the same. Still, he has his cats and a couple of nights off for the first time in months, so that’s nice.

He lays down on his bed and Henry and Apollo curl up against him, immediately covering his black sweatshirt in cat hair. Brock gives them plenty of pets and love to make up for all the time he’s been away.

Within an hour he ends up on his phone, with reruns of the office playing as background noise. If it weren’t for the cats, Brock can’t help but think this apartment would just feel like another hotel where he’s passing time between gigs. What did it used to feel like to be home? Certainly not like this.

Brock thinks he’ll call his friends and see if they’re free, but when he goes through his contacts he realizes that most of his closest friends aren’t people that live in Nashville anymore. He gives up on that and goes live on Instagram. It’s nice hearing from the fans, but it isn’t distracting him as much as he’d hoped, so a few minutes in he makes up an excuse to end the stream.

Brock almost wishes he had a gig tonight so at least he could feel productive.

A month later Brock is back in Nashville for another short break, and miraculously Jose has the same day off. When Brock gets the text that Jose has arrived at the address, and looks through the window to see Jose climbing out of an Uber, he all but runs downstairs to meet him. They take Jose’s bags inside, and barely set them down before their mouths are pressed together and they’re falling back onto the couch to make up for lost time.

Later, when they’ve settled down a bit, Brock moves to the kitchen to make dinner. He hasn’t had the chance to go shopping for fresh food and is feeling lazy anyway, so he ends up just throwing a frozen pizza in the oven.

He looks back to where Jose is snuggled up on the couch, petting the cats. They’ve taken to him quickly, Brock is pleased to see. Even Apollo, who generally doesn’t warm up to strangers very quickly, is laying across Jose’s feet.

Warmth blossom in Brock’s chest at the sight. Three of the things he cares most about in the world all sitting together, safe and comfortable and waiting for him.

Brock returns to the couch, raising one arm to make room for Jose when he scoots closer. Brock can’t remember the last time he’s felt so content.

“So,” Jose says, “this is your home.”

Jose is scratching Henry’s chin, and Brock reaches over to stroke the cats head as well. He looks at Jose, who is making an adorable kissy face at Henry, and Brock feels affection swell for both of them.

“Yep, this is it,” he says.

What Brock doesn’t say that it has only started feeling like home again since Jose got here. He doesn’t say that wherever they’re together will feel more like home to him now than any specific place.

But he has a sneaking suspicion that if he did, Jose would say the same.

What he does say is “I love you.” Or whispers it, really. And it should be a big deal, but it feels so obvious that somehow it isn’t.

“I love you, too,” Jose replies and tilts his head up to press a kiss to Brock’s jaw.

They knew, long before those words, how they felt about each other. But some things are worth saying.


End file.
